Awaken, Emrys!
by BlueHot Chronicles
Summary: This is a Harry Potter is Merlin story. I really can't do a better summary than this, yet, not for this story. Both Merlin and Harry are most likely OOC, especially Merlin. AU, First-Person POV only in the first chapter. This story is on hold for the foreseeable future. I WILL return.
1. Prologue

**Awaken, Emrys**

 **By BlueHot Chronicles**

 _Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of BlueHot Chronicles. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended._

 **Author's Note:**

This story came to me on November 2nd, 2017 and… _again_ … it's yet another story that has made me lose focus on my Charmed crossover (* _sigh_ * I really need to finish that story). This is a Harry Potter & Merlin BBC Crossover, **but** I am using Skyrim's Dragon Language for Merlin's dragon speech ( **Maybe…** I'll see how it works and change it if I need to). There may be errors, but I hope not too much or they're negligible. Also, since Harry _is_ Merlin, I will be showing more of Harry than Merlin, in the beginning, so please bear with me.

This was supposed to be a One-Shot… what is wrong with me?

Unfortunately, there's a lot going on in this story besides Harry being Merlin. I know I need to tone down all the extra subplots, but it's _so_ _hard_ and as it's fanfiction I like to go crazy, however, I guess not many people _get_ my writing and I should really learn to make writing easier on myself. I have a feeling it's the issue I'm having with my Charmed crossover, but I'll cross and recross that bridge when I return to it.

This story will take a while for me to complete. For now, it's rated T.

 **Summary:**

This is a Harry Potter _is_ Merlin story. I really can't do a better summary than this, not for this story. Both Merlin and Harry are most likely OOC, especially Merlin. AU, First-Person POV **only** **in the first chapter**.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

 _ **Prologue**_

 _ **Samhain, 1970**_

It is time.

I've grown weary of this life. Ages have passed since they've gone... my friends... my family... Arthur. My longing for their companionship, especially Arthur's, had abated long ago.

Arthur had returned to fulfil some destiny or other many times; sometimes he was male, sometimes female and not always had we gotten along - as he never recovers past memories. Arthur, King of Camelot was well and truly gone, now all I want to do is rest.

Yet, I've been forbidden the ultimate release... death.

I can choose to remain, learn about new discoveries or technologies as I did early on in my life, however, centuries ago I had been taught by a strange being - modern humans, if they'd met him, would call him either an alien or god's son - that there was another way for me to rest periodically.

So now I choose this path for the third time in my unending life. I am eager to rest, yet, there was also the lingering hope that my new family would be as perfect as it had been with my first mother, Hunith.

I look around at my manor home for the last time until my return; I know the Goblins would ensure my properties are well taken care of until such a time, and so I descend into my dungeon where I kept my Sorcery Chamber.

On entering the room, I closed and locked the door. With a bit of concentration, the Wards around my home became impregnable; nothing and no one was going to get in or out. Time was not allowed to age or corrupt any of my material possessions around the manor. My little companion, still in the chamber with me, was allowed to come and go as he pleased and knew how to keep himself safe; besides, their kind is normally long-lived, I'm not worried, he's a powerful little guy.

"Emrys, are you sure this is the right time? The Evil One is becoming stronger."

"I know this already, my friend, but I do not feel the _Call_ to engage this enemy. I am weary... I need the rest that a reincarnation would provide me. And if I am to be here for Arthur to defeat this enemy, the _Call_ will ensure my immediate rebirth instead of a years-long interim."

Wide and worried green eyes glared up at me for a moment, but I knew the little guy would give in. He knew how much better I felt after a reincarnation.

"Please, my friend," I said as I hunched down in front of him, "when I have gone, find yourself a wife as willing to learn as you, have some children. Teach them all I have taught you... I do not want you to be alone."

Without waiting for his answer, I went to the centre of the room where I'd already drawn the circle of runes and a number of alien and other occult symbols on the floor. I turned to face my little buddy, I could see the tears in his eyes as I began to chant the spell that would take my essence to Source.

"I... _we_ will be awaiting your return, Emrys."

I could feel my Magick reaching for the Darkness and I smiled at my friend one last time.

"I'll see you later, Dobby."

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

Awareness came to me slowly, but I was still within a form of Darkness.

My new mother's womb.

I briefly wonder... _again_... at the knowledge that I'm currently a zygote and if it was possible that other unformed babies were as aware as I was at this stage. I sincerely hoped not.

I allowed myself to reach a state higher of consciousness, as sleep was impossible for me at this stage of gestation.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

 _Nine_ years, that was all I'd been allowed to rest... _nine years_!

I sighed and wiggled a digit here and there to make sure my growth was going well. Only the knowledge that I didn't have to hide my magick in this life made my early reincarnation bearable.

Yes! My parents are magickal!

I'd gathered this by listening to my mother as she spoke to me, and sometimes my father when he makes an entry in his grimoire. I realised early on that this is a new occurrence for me - you know, having magickal parents - and I can't wait to be born.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

They were arguing.

They never argued... what's happening?

I woke from a peaceful sleep to the empathic energy of my mother's distress and quickly cloaked my fragile body. There wasn't much I could do in the body of an unborn - even a newborn - baby, but my magick was enough to keep me safe.

If I remember correctly, my mother should be in the eighth month of her pregnancy... and I can tell that I'm upside down. This is weird.

"How could you ask me to do this?" my mother cried.

"I'm doing this for both of you, Lily... you and my son."

I sense both of their distress... _please don't fight. I want my family whole and happy. Just this one time... please._

"No… you're doing this for you!"

Something that sounds like a door slams and I only sense the presence of my mother, and since I can feel the motion… it meant that my mother had just left my father.

Why does destiny keep doing this to me?

Don't _I_ deserve to be happy?

To distressed and unwilling to harm my body, I chose to meditate until it's time to get out.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

"Oh James, he's beautiful."

 _Why, thank you, mother_. I think, recognising her voice, though it sounded different now I was outside her womb.

I look up at the other face hovering above me. Is that my father? Thank the gods! They'd worked things out while I'd been meditating… _yes_!

"He definitely has your smile, Lily. Look, he's smiling at me!"

Wait…

"Say hi to daddy, Harry."

What? _Harry_... that's the best name they could come up with? _Who the..._

"Welcome to the wizarding world, Harry James Potter."

I don't feel... _right_... but they're so happy to see me. It looks as though they love me already... what the hell... I smile and fall asleep to gushing coos.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

I don't approve of my father's friends.

Sirius is so immature and I sense he doesn't like my mother; for a Werewolf, Remus is such a coward but I guess he's kinda nice, and couldn't these people sense the evil pouring off of Peter!

Don't my parents know that they're supposed to protect me from people like that? Instead, I'm _surrounded_ by wizards who could hurt me, intentionally or not!

Although, yesterday I heard my parents and Sirius saying that Remus had disappeared. If I could snort, I would. Even I knew they believed the Werewolf was some kind of spy; forget the guy with evil smirks and giggles.

 _Imbeciles_! I'm surrounded by imbeciles, I tell you!

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

Life with my new parents the past week had been amazing!

My father's friends hadn't been around at all and he's been retraining my tiny body to ride a broomstick again. Like I said... amazing.

As for my mother, sometimes I could sense a sadness within her that was understandable - although there was nothing I could do about it yet - but, she was a wonderful woman and she loved me.

Ten minutes ago, I sat in my crib and watched as my mother wrote a letter. She was crying and looking at me as she wrote it, and when she'd sealed it, she tapped it with her wand and the envelope had disappeared.

The house shook five minutes later.

"Lily, it's him!" I heard my father yell from downstairs. "Take Harry and run... I'll hold him off!"

I couldn't help myself in my young and fragile body... I cried when I could no longer sense my father. I watched helplessly as my mother closed the door and kneeled to look at me through the bars of the crib. She was crying too.

"Mama."

It was a parting gift, they'd been trying to get me to say it for some time now, but I'd been pretending ignorance. I knew that this Voldemort couldn't kill me... I _think_... but I knew my mother was about to die, especially as she cast an ancient spell over me that was completely unnecessary. The spell alone had already taken ahold of her life.

I couldn't stop crying and I kept calling for her... she was crying through her smiles as she cherished my final and only word to her. I wish I could say a spell or call my magick to save her, but I couldn't; the magick contained within me would destroy everything and everyone if I released it from this untrained body.

She was begging for my life now from the fully cloaked man who'd blasted through the door.

He gave her the chance to save herself.

"Mama, wun"

She didn't hear me over her pleading. The evil wizard gave her two more chances to leave.

 _Please, mother! Run, Please!_ I could barely hold back my magick, I want to save her!

"Avada Kedavra!"

She was gone.

I looked up as the cloaked evil came closer to my crib... he pointed his wand at my face, and I waited. Mum died for me. I will allow her magick to do what it needed to do.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A blast of green light hit me in the face.


	2. 1st Year

**Chapter One**

 **A/N - I won't be going into detail for years 1,2 and most likely 3. Those three years (3 chapters) are to be considered a prelude. This story is going to take some time to complete (I have many others to work on, not to mention my own original stories). At some point, I might return to add to or edit these chapters. This chapter doesn't really have dialogue. The other chapters won't be like this.**

 **~~(*)~(*)~~**

 _ **First Year**_

"Up! Get up!"

This was the greeting Harry Potter became used to receiving every morning at five thirty.

He would rush through a five-minute cold shower, dress in one of Dudley's old t-shirts and baggy pants, before going into the kitchen and making breakfast for his family.

After eating a slice of toast with some butter, and drinking a glass of water from the tap, he would quickly water the rose bushes before collecting his bookbag and leaving for the walk to his and Dudley's primary school.

A normal school day, consisted of him going to classes and consciously dumbing down his school work, dodging Dudley and his gang, and spending his lunch hour in the library. When the bell rung to signal the end of the school day, Harry would make sure that Dudley and his friends piled into Uncle Vernon's car, before he left the safety of the school grounds to walk home.

The only problem with this was that Dudley and his friends would sometimes wait for him near the park to play 'Harry Hunting', or just to give him a beating before leaving him to limp home. Once there, Harry would do chores until it was time for him to make dinner, eat his small portion of whichever dish they allowed him, and then he was sent to his cupboard, weary and full of longing.

As he lay on the mattress in the cupboard, waiting for sleep to come, he fantasized about some distant relative coming to take him away. His current family hated him, and they made sure - every day of his life - that he knew it.

His gaze then lingered on his drawings that he'd stuck to the wall of his cupboard, on the side where it wouldn't be immediately seen if one of them decided to open the door to poke their head in. All of his drawings were of a fantasy world; there were dragons, griffins and other fairy tale creatures and beasts; there were even sorcerers!

Thus, Harry Potter would fall asleep and into a fantastical dream where his father - who was a great sorcerer - would come for him, and he would raise Harry to be a sorcerer just like him. Great dragons would descend from the sky, and they would speak with Harry and his dad, and they would live in a truly beautiful home and be a happy family forever.

If anyone were to look into his cupboard then, they would see a scrappy and small-for-his-age little boy, bearing a peaceful smile on his face as he slept.

 _Emrys..._

Alas! His incredible dream would end, and the cycle of his terrible and lonely waking life would begin again the next day.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

Everything changed on his eleventh birthday when one of his dreams and wishes came through.

Hagrid had come to give Harry a letter inviting him to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He blushed when he thought of his childish question to the large man the moment the Dursleys had shuffled a pig-tailed Dudley away.

"Are you a Sorcerer, sir?"

"Call me Hagrid, Harry and we're called wizards, not sorcerers. Oh, and the lasses are called witches."

The next morning, Hagrid had taken him to Diagon Alley. That place - a magickal town - had been amazing! Hagrid had gotten him his first ever birthday gift, not forgetting the birthday cake, but an actual gift! A beautiful Snowy-Owl that Harry named Hedwig.

The giant man had then told him about Hogwarts and the four Houses; he even told Harry about the lake and the forest and some of the creatures that lived deep within it.

 _Just like the ones in my dream world._

There were some bitter moments Hagrid told Harry about, like learning that his parents had died for him at the hand - or wand in this case - of an evil wizard; that Harry was famous because he survived, and that Voldemort might still be out there in this magickal world somewhere, just waiting to return.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

 _Wow, I made another friend, and I'm a Gryffindor!_

Harry sat curled up on the broad ledge near the open window, in the dormitory he shared with Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus. The others were all asleep, but Harry was too excited about his new magickal life to do the same, thus when Hedwig had paid him a visit, he'd left his bed and sat up with her long into the night.

Ron had been really nice to Harry, telling him about Quidditch and different sweets, the redhead had even been kind enough to warn him about evil Slytherins, just like Hagrid - his first friend - had done.

Then Draco Malfoy had shown up during the train ride, and the blonde's snooty behaviour had reminded him so much of the Dursley's, it hadn't been that difficult of a choice to dismiss the boy. Harry had glimpsed, something that looked like hurt, on the boy's features only for a moment, but Slytherins were evil... _right_?

Things were better this way.

Everyone had cheered when he got into Gryffindor, he had a new friend, and except for the strange prickling in his scar when the Potions Professor had looked at him during the feast, everything was perfect.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

Everything wasn't as perfect as Harry had hoped it would be.

Yes, he'd made another friend - Hermione Granger - honestly though, in the beginning, Harry hadn't liked the caramel-skinned girl. She was pushy, a huge know-it-all and a teacher's pet.

Ron didn't like her at all, even after the troll incident. What Harry didn't know, was that Ron was only being nice to Hermione because Harry now thought of the girl as a friend.

Classes had been going well, until his first potions session. Snape hated Harry, and the boy couldn't understand why; it was like being back at the Dursley's all over again. At least he didn't have to clean for Snape... unless he got detention, and Harry would do everything in his power to never have detention with a teacher that hated him so much, and for no reason.

If he had to study only potions, then that was what he was willing to do, just to keep on the man's good side... if there was one. Regrettably, there was no getting on Snape's good side, not for anyone who wasn't Slytherin and certainly _not_ for Harry Potter. His Potions work remained inadequate in the professor's eyes and eventually, Harry slacked off.

He'd made the Quidditch team!

Unfortunately, someone had tried to kill him during his first match, and Snape had been seen by his friends jinxing his broom. After the troll incident, he'd opened his big mouth and told Ron and Hermione about Hagrid taking something from the vault in Gringotts.

Suddenly, the three of them were seeking out daring ventures and trying to find out what Fluffy was hiding, and whether or not Snape was trying to steal whatever _it_ was.

His Christmas holidays spent at Hogwarts had been great. Harry had gotten loads of presents from his friends, and someone had sent him his father's invisibility cloak.

Then he'd found the mirror.

Dumbledore told Harry that it was called the Mirror of Erised, and explained what it does, but Harry was sure that the Headmaster was wrong about one thing. There was no way that the mirror was showing Harry his family, - though he did not say this to Dumbledore - he had never seen any pictures of his parents, but the way everyone described them, his mother basically had red hair with emerald green eyes like his, and that he looked _exactly_ like his father.

The woman Harry saw in the mirror - though beautiful and seemed kind, motherly and full of love for him - had brown hair, he could tell by the locks that fell from the wrap she used to tie it up. Her eyes were brown, and she wore clothing that seemed to have been made centuries ago.

The man that stood next to her, was dressed in a similar fashion; he had long dark hair streaked with grey, and he had a full beard and moustache. As far as Harry could tell, though he didn't really know for sure, men in the wizarding world didn't wear beards until they were of a great age. On the whole, he looked nothing like the man!

What freaked him out the most, was the number of people trying to get to the front of the mirror - on their side - to see him, and none of them resembled him. Not understanding what he was seeing, Harry left, only to return the next night. Though he did not know who these people were, it felt good to see love and pride in their eyes as they looked at him. Hence he stayed, left for lunch, then returned for the third time when Dumbledore caught him.

Things had been nice and quiet for some time, then Hagrid hatched a dragon egg; later on, - when they'd taken Norbert up to the Astronomy Tower to give him to Charlie's friends - Harry, Hermione and Neville had gotten detention in the Forbidden Forest.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

Harry had been so ecstatic that they'd gotten rid of the dragon, he'd forgotten his invisibility cloak at the bottom of the stairs to the Astronomy tower. For some reason, when he was around the dragon, he'd always gotten a blinding headache; and not from his scar, like he'd been feeling in DADA class, but more like an expanding ball of energy that was about to explode in his brain.

Not only had he and his friends gained detention, but they'd also lost Gryffindor a hundred and fifty points for breaking curfew. Their fellow housemates began to either ignore or ridicule Harry, Hermione and Neville, as a result. Harry even noticed that Ron would hang out with Seamus and Dean in the common room, and if he and Neville were in the dormitory alone, the redhead would chat with them. If Seamus and Dean entered the room, Ron would bid them all 'good night' before rushing behind his bed curtains. Harry didn't blame Ron, he wouldn't want to have to be in the middle of anyone fighting or having a disagreement either.

During detention in the Forbidden Forest, Harry saw a dead unicorn being desecrated, he'd been attacked by Voldemort and was then rescued by a centaur.

After that, they'd had their end-of-term exams, and Harry believed he did well enough. After all, he, Hermione and Neville - and a week after their detention, Ron - would meet in the library to study, just to escape the jeers of their housemates who were furious that they'd lost Gryffindor so many points.

Then Harry had done the unthinkable, he'd betrayed a friend just because he believed he was doing the right thing. After Hermione had jinxed Neville, the three of them left him frozen and alone on the common room floor, to follow Snape into the trap door.

Not only had Harry almost gotten his friends killed, Voldemort had been down there at the end of all those traps, and possessing the body of Quirrell.

Furthermore, Harry had killed him... on purpose.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

Harry looked around dismally, - though he tried to hide it - at the happy smiling faces of his housemates, who were clearly no longer shunning him and his friends; they'd just won them the House-Cup, after all. However, their victory felt wrong somehow, and Harry couldn't understand why he felt so conflicted.

After winning them the ten points that gave Gryffindor the edge over Slytherin, Neville had risen from his seat next to Hermione, ignoring everyone as he sat at the end of the table next to some second-years. Ron was stuffing his face and chatting with his brothers Fred and George. Hermione was perusing the questionnaire from their exams, and asking Percy's opinion, who was thrilled to give her advice on any question she might have had trouble with.

Across the hall, not long ago, Harry had seen the disappointed stance of the Slytherins when the colour of the house banners changed, especially the first-years; yet, in another moment they all sat straight and proud, wearing looks of either boredom or indifference.

The reality of what had happened hit him at that moment.

At the beginning of the feast, the Great Hall had been decorated in Slytherin colours... the Slytherins had been made to believe that they'd won the House-Cup! And the Headmaster had taken it all away by awarding the Gryffindors in front of everyone... Gryffindors who had been breaking the rules. Harry looked back at Neville, who was now eating mechanically and not speaking to anyone.

He looked down at the table in front of him as he thought of the past few days.

Neville hadn't really been speaking to any of them. Harry and Hermione had been treating the boy as they always had when they'd been studying together in the library or hanging out by the lake. Ron didn't really think much of Neville, and he routinely made disparaging comments about the other boy, which Harry and Hermione had ignored; Harry, because he had thought Ron was just teasing Neville in fun, and... well... he didn't know why Hermione ignored it.

Harry hadn't even apologised for leaving Neville alone and unable to move, in the cold common room for possibly the entire night... Harry hadn't asked Neville or anyone how long he'd been left there. Suddenly, thoughts of all the good he had experienced during the school year bombarded him.

He didn't deserve to be on the Quidditch team, he'd been disobeying a teacher.

He didn't deserve a new broom for the same reason, and also because anyone else would just as easily have used a school broom.

He and Ron hadn't deserved points or praise for taking down a troll, they should have gotten a teacher. The same answer applied to Hagrid's baby dragon.

Why, though? Why had he been praised and awarded for his stupidity?

 _ **"You're the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry. You can get away with anything… but definitely not with Snape. Be careful though, mate, nobody likes a show-off. Did you notice that the Know-It-All has no friends?"**_

Ron's words all those months ago echoed through his brain. As the Boy-Who-Lived, he was awarded or derided by his peers and his professors for every little action he took or every decision he made. He was there to be judged at the whim of others; the Boy-Who-Lived… belonging to everyone… yet utterly alone.

Just then, Snape and his Slytherins left the hall quietly.

There, was another wrongful assumption Harry had made... Snape had been trying to save his life during the Quidditch match when Quirrell was jinxing his broom.

The Potions Master didn't even acknowledge the snickering from some of the students; a Gryffindor further down the table from Harry had even booed, but Snape just allowed the door to close silently behind him.

Harry felt sick to his stomach, and when he glanced at the head table, he could see that some of the other professors shared this feeling, save for the Headmaster, who continued to sip his drink and smile genially around at the students in satisfaction.

Harry rose from the bench and left the Great Hall. None of his friends noticed him leave.


	3. Contemplations

**Chapter Two**

 _ **Contemplations**_

Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, allowed the painting that hid the opening to his quarters to slide shut behind him. The Potions Master frowned, not even the release of slamming a door off of its hinges was he allowed.

Damn Dumbledore to the deepest, hottest and most demon-infested pits of hell! How dare that manipulative, pyjama-wearing, dodgy old tosser embarrass him and his students? It had taken the Potions Master close to an hour to placate his Slytherins, especially the desolate little first-years.

When the winning points to Gryffindor had been so unfairly given, he had been surprised to see Longbottom move away from his friends to sit at the end of the table alone and ignore his celebrating housemates.

As he thought about it, Longbottom's points had been fair, the boy had been trying to stop the others from continuing in their foolish quest. However, when the colours of the banners had been so carelessly changed and the three houses, including his colleagues, began to celebrate, Severus had clenched his hand tightly in his lap fighting the urge to pull his wand on Dumbledore-The-Thoughtless-Wanker.

They weren't really celebrating Gryffindor's win, but Slytherin's defeat. He'd looked over at his Slytherins and made eye contact with the prefects, who immediately… delicately… cautioned the rest of their housemates; if a Slytherin had to accept failure or defeat, then they were to do so with finesse and aplomb.

 _ **"Ach, don't pout, Severus. The best house won, finally, wouldn't you say?"**_ **Minerva had said out of the corner of her mouth, in her seat next to him, applauding her lions.**

 **Severus had really wanted to throw a drink in her face, but the food had yet to appear, and it was obvious that the woman hadn't realised the enormous blow Albus had made against house unity. The Potions Master hadn't bothered to reply to his colleague's careless ribbing, he was already acquainted with Minerva's love for trivial competition.**

 **The food appeared and he ate only a little, then sipped on some wine just long enough until it was polite for him to leave. Bringing his cup to his lips he glanced at Dumbledore's Golden Boy and frowned, the boy wasn't smiling and celebrating with his friends as he'd been doing earlier, in fact, the boy seemed to be in deep concentration. With an inner snort, he looked away, the Boy-Who-Lived was going to return to a loving family, while some of his Slytherins would have to deal with the consequences of what their own family considered an unsatisfactory performance. Sighing softly, the Potions Master realised that he couldn't sit among these people much longer; their - his colleagues, mostly - insensibility to everything his students had to endure both at school and at home, made him want to start casting random 'empathy' curses.**

 **Alas! There were too many of those types of hexes to choose from, he'd be disarmed before he could decide which of them to cast.**

 **As Severus stood, he was surprised - though he did not show this - when his Slytherins stood with him. With a slight nod of his head and a glint of pride in his eyes as he looked upon them, his students left the Great Hall uniformly; when the last two students left through the door, Severus followed and didn't bother to acknowledge the snickers and scattered booing behind them.**

Making himself a cup of coffee, Severus snorted derisively; none of them would have had the guts to attempt such a thing during the school year when he could take points and give detentions. What they all seemed to forget was that Professor Snape had a long memory and patience to spare; he chuckled darkly as he thought up of various disgusting things he could make them prepare for potions during _hours_ of detention.

As for his colleagues, he would have to think of something, but their punishments would not be anything as... conspicuous... as harvesting the thick, viscid and olive green mucus of flobberworms.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

A few days before the students were to depart for the summer vacation, Severus was collecting some boxes of Umbrella Flowers which Pomona had harvested for him, when he heard a conversation that had him baffled.

"No, Harry. We're not friends; a friend wouldn't have jinxed me and left me alone while he goes off to nearly get himself killed."

Despite the words, the Potions Master was impressed by how calmly they were spoken.

"Neville, I'm sorry for what happened, but I thought someone was trying to steal the stone for Voldemort and then he'd come after me."

"So, your idea to save yourself was to chase after an adult who was strong enough and evil enough to kill you?"

"W-well..."

"You know what, Harry. I don't care anymore... you, Hermione and that git you call your best friend can all leave me alone."

The Potions Master smirked and silently applauded the boy, he never thought he would witness the day that Longbottom stood up for himself.

He levitated the large boxes and charmed them to move in any direction he walked; he aimed for the open door, allowing the boxes to move ahead of him when someone collided with the first box.

"Longbottom, watch where you're going!"

The boy scrambled to his feet and scrubbed away, what Severus assumed were tears, from his face. He rolled his eyes and strolled passed with his cargo when he heard the boy sniff.

Severus whirled to face the boy, "Longbottom."

"Ah! U-um, yes sir?" The boy stammered as he looked up fearfully at the abrupt movement and intense focus of his least favourite Professor as he addressed him.

"Follow me."

Severus turned back to the boxes, his cloak billowing behind him and a tiny shaking figure, following in his wake.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

Back in the classroom, Neville watched uneasily as the Potions Master lined the ten boxes along the wall; he then summoned another box from storage containing large glass jars and placed them near the workstation Neville usually sat at during class.

When Snape gestured for him to stand at the workstation Neville quickly shuffled into the seat and huddled as he glanced up at the man.

He'd heard from older students, that Professor Snape gave detentions at the slightest infraction and now he wished dearly that he'd been paying attention while walking into the greenhouse.

What Neville didn't realise or think of, was the fact that since everyone would be leaving within the next few days, detentions were eliminated until the next year.

"Professor Sprout has informed me that your skills are exceptional at Herbology."

Neville felt his cheeks heat, but he said nothing as he continued to fumble with his fingers and nodded hesitantly. Two jars were placed in front of him, and Neville's head jerked up at a familiar fragrance.

Professor Snape had levitated one of the boxes along the wall, placed it next to the box of jars and closer to Neville before he opened it.

"Umbrella flowers!" He bit his lips and looked back down at the desk.

"Accurate, Mr Longbottom."

Neville felt his heart stutter, Professor Snape had told him that he was right!

"Now, can you tell me at least two uses of this flower?"

"W-well, they're o-one of the m-main ingredients in the Dreamless Sleep potion and..." Neville felt his face heat again, "...I t-think they're used in o-old-lady potions."

Neville kept his eyes on the desk in front of him, which was a good thing because if he'd looked up at that moment, he would have fainted at the sight of the Potions Master forcibly fighting a burst of laughter.

"The proper term, Mr Longbottom, is 'beauty' potion. Have you learned the preparations for the Umbrella Flower yet?"

"Um, they can only be harvested or prepared using magick... and I-I've only learned how to harvest them at home, Sir."

"Very good because, as you will soon discover, the charm used to separate the blossoms during harvesting is the same used during preparations. Observe."

Neville watched carefully as Snape pointed his wand and separated all five of the huge petals from the weirdly tiny bud with a softly chanted spell; the Potions Master then levitated the petals into a jar and sealed it, and the bud, he put into another jar.

"Five petals to a jar, Mr Longbottom. As for the buds," Snape pointed to the jar with the single bud, "they can all be placed in one jar. Now, choose a flower so I can discern whether you need further instructions."

Neville took his wand from his robes and though his hand shook, he wasn't as afraid as he usually was when around the dour man. Maybe it was because Snape was actually demonstrating what needed to be done as opposed to just demanding they follow his instructions on the board? Neville wasn't sure of the answer, but he chose a blossom and carefully levitated it from the box to the empty space in front of him; another spell and all five petals separated just as Snape's had done.

Elation filled him and he smiled brightly, unfortunately, this was enough of a distraction, and the petals fell to the desk and disintegrated. Neville hunched and began a stuttered apology, but Snape only levitated another blossom in front of him.

"It's just a flower, Mr Longbottom," the Potions Master said calmly, "and you did well for your first attempt. This time, try to remember to levitate the petals after you've separated them from the bud."

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

Severus observed Longbottom from time to time as he worked on next year's class curriculum. The boy had quickly gotten a hang of levitating the petals into the jars, and once satisfied that the child could complete the rest on his own, Severus pointed out an empty crate in the corner where Longbottom should place the sealed jars.

The Potions Master then set up two other stations similar to Longbottom's and retreated to his desk to begin adjustment to all of his classes course of studies for the next year.

About half an hour after Longbottom began to work on his own, two of Severus' other students appeared at the door and the Potions Master gestured silently for them to enter.

The two newcomers eyed Longbottom curiously but said nothing as they each chose a station and began to work on their own box of Umbrella Flowers. Severus noted that Longbottom was so deep in concentration, the boy wasn't even aware that anyone had entered the classroom.

When he thought of his actions toward Longbottom that day, Severus couldn't exactly say what had guided him. Longbottom reminded him too much of one of his boys and if the Gryffindor was in the same boat as they, then Severus' own negative actions toward the boy needed to change if Longbottom was ever to confide in him. However, for all Severus knew, it could be the fact that Longbottom had told off _Potter_ and the Potions Master was just subliminally rewarding him. Only time would tell.

Severus was unsure of how much time had passed since the newcomers' arrival before he heard a slight gasp from Longbottom; he glanced up to find that the boy had just turned from packing away a couple of jars, and had immediately noticed the other occupants of the classroom.

The Potions Master bit back a smirk as the other boys continued their work, pretending to be unaware of Longbottom's moment of panic. Taking pity on the frozen form, still near the crate, Severus addressed him.

"Mr Longbottom," Severus felt somewhat disappointed at the startled gaze that flew to his, "thank you for your help, you may leave for the afternoon as dinner in the Great Hall will begin within the next hour and a half."

Surprise flittered through him as he noticed the boy glance between another box and the two - still ignoring him - boys, but fear won out, and the Potions Master nodded as Longbottom wished him a good evening as he left.

Severus knew the boys must have been burning with curiosity the rest of the afternoon so he wasn't surprised when, as they were leaving for dinner, his godson decided to ask the question he and his best friend wanted the answer to.

"Uncle Sev, is Longbottom like us?" Draco asked, gesturing to the dark haired boy beside him.

Severus sighed as he looked down into the curious little faces, "I am unsure Draco, but it is my duty as a professor of this school to find out. That said, I know you boys understand the fragility of the situation and trust that I don't have to request your silence on the matter, especially in confronting Longbottom."

Draco and Blaise looked at each other and looked up at their mentor and Head of House, and both boys answered earnestly.

"We won't say anything, Sir."


	4. 2nd Year

**A/N: Okay, so remember at the beginning of Chapter One when I said that Years 1,2 & 3 were going to be rushed and should be considered a Prelude? _Yeah_... ignore that author's note. I realise that I need to take things slow with this story and explain or show a lot. Besides, I'm enjoying writing this; plus Awaken Emrys and Must Have Been Love is my first experience writing Merlin, and I don't want to make him _too_ out of character whenever it's time for him to show up in this story. Please remember that this story is AU. Enjoy part one of Harry's second year...**

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

 **Chapter Three**

 _ **Second Year**_

Harry shuffled into an empty compartment further up the train, where he knew few students ventured. He struggled for a few minutes to stow away his trunk, but he gave up when the weight became too much for his sore body to bear. Instead, he shoved it into a corner and placed Hedwig's empty carrier on top, then settled himself gently into a seat.

The day they'd all left the school grounds to get the Express at Hogsmeade Station, Hagrid had given him a precious item that had turned his world upside down. It had been one of the reasons that this summer at the Dursley's was one of the worst he'd ever had.

First of all, the Dursleys had been more vicious than in previous years, and he soon learned that one of the main reasons was Dudley's cursed pigtail that they'd had to get surgically removed. Dudley had missed his first week at Smeltings because of it.

Harry frowned as he wondered if it really was so easy for non-magickal people to terminate something done by magick. He knew that Hagrid had been trying to turn Dudley into a pig; was it possible that the curse was still there? Dudley had seemed - though it blew his mind to think so - hungrier, messier and fatter than Harry remembered. If he got the chance, Harry decided that he would ask Hermione's opinion on the matter... or maybe an older student who would know more. Thoughts of Hermione brought Harry's mind back to his summer resolution concerning his 'friends'.

Harry had chosen to end his friendship with Ron when, during the week before they left for summer holidays, he came to the conclusion that the redhead was only his friend because of Harry's 'Boy-Who-Lived' status.

As for Hermione, he chose a wait-and-see approach even though he'd already decided that he would not willingly seek out her companionship. Hermione had been the one to jinx Neville, but Harry couldn't put all the blame on her because the girl had been doing it for him, and they'd both left their friend there, while Ron had never cared for Neville at all.

Since the end-of-term feast, Harry had decided on a course of action, and it was thanks to Neville's rejection of friendship.

Not that he blamed Neville, no, Harry really was grateful; Neville had done to him exactly what Harry had done to Malfoy when the Slytherin had offered his friendship. However, where Neville had been calm and almost sad in his rejection of Harry - and in defence of his own self-worth - Harry had been rude and insulting to Malfoy just to impress Ron.

Neville's action had allowed Harry to see - further down the path he'd been on - what his life would have turned into. Keeping friends whose only loyalty was to 'the hero', The-Boy-Who-Lived... not Harry Potter.

Harry shuffled in his seat and froze with a sharp gasp, he winced as he shook his head. Would they still be loyal to Harry Potter, the boy who couldn't defend himself against an overweight and slow-moving muggle?

What about when they realised that he was a fraud?

Over the summer, Harry had wished he'd had friends to confide in, and he shook his head again; another flaw on _that_ path... keeping friends because he's lonely and afraid. Terribly afraid.

No, not anymore! If Neville could stand up for himself - chose not to have unworthy friends - then Harry could do it too, even if it meant not having anyone to confide in or depend on.

The strange creature that had appeared in his room at the Dursley's, had made the separation from his friends even easier. Dobby - the being called himself - had kept all of Harry's letters from him, it had been a small stack, about six envelopes at the most and one had definitely been his Hogwarts letter.

If any of the letters had been from Ron or Hermione, then they would really believe that he'd broken things off with them. Harry would never know who the letters had actually been from; Dobby had burnt them to ashes using some sort of Fire Charm that Harry had gotten the blame for when he'd received a warning letter from the Improper Use of Magick Office.

As for his Hogwarts letter, Harry had no idea how he was going to manage without school books; his robes would fit well enough though they were just a bit short; he had a few school supplies that he could manage with, but he would eventually run out. Harry had no idea what he was going to do, but again he guessed that he could ask an older student, maybe one of the Prefects.

Anyway, Dobby had told him that there was a danger at Hogwarts this year, but Harry didn't care. Anywhere was better than being at the Dursley's, in fact, Hogwarts was his home no matter what the Headmaster said. Harry had practically begged Dumbledore to allow him to remain at Hogwarts over the summer, but the Headmaster had refused.

Dobby had said he was only trying to keep Harry safe, but the creature had only made living at the Dursley's intolerable. For a moment, Harry had even thought that Dobby had been trying to keep him from getting through the barrier at platform 9¾, but the sensation of walking through a thick clay-like substance wasn't going to stop him from going home. Harry hadn't felt any different after he got through the barrier, so he assumed that whatever Dobby had tried to do had failed.

The train began to move, and again he appreciated this end of the train as he hadn't even realised that there were currently hundreds of students on board.

Harry gingerly lay on his side and winced as he moved, but he was tired so he placed his feet up on the seat next to him and settled down to sleep for most of the journey. By the time the train got to Hogsmeade, Harry's magick had at least healed his internal injuries.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table near the end where the first-years were going to be sitting, and he absently replied to a greeting from Dean and Seamus on the bench opposite him. They - like everyone else so far - treated Harry the same as last year, so that meant his secret was still safe for the moment, and all anyone cared about was catching a glimpse of his scar. Harry shook his head; he'd have to do something about that scar.

Ron was sitting somewhere further down the bench with his brothers, thankfully; and not too surprising - since she'd probably written to him over the summer and hadn't gotten a reply from him - Hermione sat near to the girls from her dorm room and ignored him.

Neville was sitting next to Dean at the very end, keeping to himself but replying to comments respectfully and to the point. Neville didn't look up at him at all, and Harry - sad that he'd lost a good friend - sat silently and waited for the Sorting.

His mind turned to the strange black skeletal creatures that had been pulling the carriages. Last year, he and the other first-years had travelled to the castle by boat, so of course, Harry hadn't seen them then, but it almost seemed as though no one else saw them today. Harry wondered what they could be, and decided he would search the library for an answer to that and other things.

As the Sorting began, Harry looked up at the head table. All the familiar faces were there except for one man, who was grinning around at the students and extravagantly dressed, with glossy dark-blond hair. It must be the new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher, Harry thought, as his gaze moved on to the professor sitting next to the man.

He hurriedly looked down to hide his amusement and bit back a laugh; Snape was gazing directly at the man in absolute disgust, unfortunately, the grinning man was oblivious.

Finally, the Sorting ended and the Headmaster gave a welcome speech before he introduced the new DADA teacher, Professor Lockhart who stood and waved as though greeting inferior vassals. The meal appeared and Harry ignored the head table to pour himself a drink.

He swallowed a much-needed gulp of orange juice as his gaze darted over the sumptuous, and immense platters of food along the table.

Harry wanted to eat, but there was nothing on the table that his empty stomach could handle. His body had become accustomed to the soups and watery cereals his Aunt Petunia had shoved through the cat-flap of Dudley's second bedroom for him, at least once a day, over the summer.

Nevertheless, Harry was extremely hungry and he eyed a platter of grilled chicken that begged to be eaten. He pulled a small leg onto the plate in front of him and speared a slice; swallowing heavily, as he tried not to drool, he took the slice of meat in his mouth and began to chew.

It felt wrong. His teeth felt weak... or more accurately, unaccustomed to their proper function, and he couldn't continue. Using a napkin, he allowed the offending object to fall out of his mouth, and he wiped his lips and hands clean before pushing away his plate.

"I could use a nice hot bowl of oatmeal right now." Harry sighed to himself, but immediately his eyes widened in surprise when a steaming bowl of oatmeal appeared in front of him.

Harry glanced around, but everyone was focused on their own food or talking to each other. He looked back down at the thick and creamy looking concoction, and his mouth watered; picking up a spoon, he took a mouthful, swallowed and waited. When his stomach didn't rebel, he continued taking small bites and slow, careful swallows as he forced himself not to cry in relief.

So completely focused on his first real meal in weeks, Harry was unaware of three different sets of eyes observing his actions.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

Down in the dungeons, grey eyes gazed restlessly at the canopy above.

Draco couldn't have seen what he did, or he did see it but it couldn't possibly mean what he thought. If Blaise had seen it, his best friend would have known what it meant immediately, but Blaise hadn't been facing the Gryffindor table.

Draco sighed and shifted to his side, Potter's actions concerning the food had reminded him of his first week of school when he'd been getting to know Blaise; even the way Potter had awkwardly stretched to get something from the table in front of him was familiar.

Regrettably, it had been Draco who'd caught Potter's disturbing behaviour, and now he wondered if he should do anything about it. Uncle Sev had seen, Draco knew he had, but would Uncle Sev even want to help Dumbledore's Golden Boy. His Godfather hated Potter, everyone knows it.

Then Draco thought of Longbottom, who was - now that he thought of it - sort of similar to Potter. Uncle Sev hated both Gryffindors, yet, he'd decided to help one of them; not that Longbottom knew this, but help the awkward Gryffindor would get.

 _I'll leave it up to Uncle Sev._

Draco relaxed, the weight of responsibility lifted off his shoulders, and his eyes drooped as sleepiness grew. Whatever happened, it was no skin off his nose; Potter had chosen his own path last year.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

The next morning Harry decided to tackle the issue of his empty backpack.

"Percy, I was wondering if you could help me with something. I don't know who else to ask."

"It's what _we_ , as Prefects, are here for, Harry. How can I help you?"

Harry was glad he'd chosen Percy, the Prefect was efficient at his duties and very helpful.

Percy took Harry to a room located a floor above the library. The enormous room was empty but for a black line on the floor in front of a desk with a stack of papers, an inkwell and quill lying next to it. Percy pulled one of the sheets of paper and Harry realised it was some type of sign-up form that would temporarily give him access to the Hogwarts Tuition Welfare Fund.

"Once you fill out and sign the form, everything you should need as a second-year student, and more, will appear on the other side of the line. So I suggest you remain on this side until that happens."

"Okay."

"We only ask that at the end of the school year you return the textbooks and other large equipment, if they're still intact, so that someone else may benefit at a later date. Oh, and here you go," Percy said, taking out a stack of books from his own backpack, "You won't find these books in here, so you can borrow mine."

The grinning face on the cover, was enough for Harry to guess that these were all the books for Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Lockhart.

"Thanks, Percy, but won't you need them for your classes?"

"To be honest, I don't think anyone actually _needs_ these books, but I can borrow them from one of my brothers. Fred and George usually share books, but mum still gets two of everything... I think it's habit on her part."

"I'll take care of them until I can give them back to you. Thanks a lot, Percy, I was really worried about what to do."

Percy smiled down at the second-year, he wished that more of the students, especially his brothers, were as affable as Harry.

"No problem, Harry. Oh, here, give me your knapsack."

Harry handed over the bag and watched as Percy tapped it a couple of times with his wand. His backpack glowed for a moment before it went back to normal.

"I put a Weightless and an Extension Charm on it," Percy said as he returned Harry's backpack, "the charms will last until morning, so you can stay as long as you have to and get all that you need today, seeing as it's Sunday."

"Wow, thanks! I can't wait to learn spells like that. Would you be able to teach me those spells, Percy?"

Percy felt a rush of pleasure, "I'm sure I could teach you the Weightless Charm, but the Extension Charm is a seventh-year spell. Hey, I've been asked to tutor a few of the younger years on Friday afternoons. Why don't you join us then?"

"I'd really like that. Do I meet you at the library?"

"No, I usually find an abandoned classroom, as it can get loud and Madame Pince doesn't appreciate loud. Meet me in the common room after your last class on Friday and we'll take it from there."

Harry nodded and began to fill out the form; once he was done, Percy tapped it with his wand and it disappeared, Harry guessing, to the Headmaster's office or maybe to his Head of House. He forgot about the form when the rest of the enormous room behind the line was flooded with shelves, racks and boxes of everything he could possibly need for the year.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, Harry. I have a study session myself."

"Okay, see you later, Percy and thanks again."

Once Percy had left, Harry took his book list from the pocket of his bag - Percy had gotten one from somewhere for him - and began his hunt.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

As Percy strolled to the library for his study session with Penelope, his mind was occupied by thoughts of Harry Potter.

Why hadn't Harry been able to get his school supplies over the summer?

Why was Harry still the height of a first-year student? Did it have something to do with his strange eating habit Percy had noticed at the Welcoming Feast?

And finally...

Why had Harry kept flinching every time his _empty_ backpack brushed against his back?

 _I think I'll keep an eye on him... just to be safe._

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

The counter was jam-packed.

Harry stared, bewildered at the number of things he'd found and temporarily stored on the empty counter. Then he turned to the trolley that he'd used while he ambled around the aisles; that too was full.

He'd found a set of school robes, shirts and pants that fit his slightly bigger frame better than the ones he'd brought, and Harry decided to bring his old school things, that he didn't need anymore, to put into the Fund. There were even muggle clothes, shirts, tees and jeans, that he could wear during the weekends. Harry chose mostly black clothing as they hid stains better; he'd even found a pair of sturdy black boots that he could wear to classes and black sneakers that he could wear at other times.

The only thing from his school list that he hadn't gotten were potions ingredients. Harry didn't know what to do about those as he didn't have any money - obviously, if he'd been allowed to go to Diagon Alley during the summer, he would have had all his things and visited Gringotts then.

With a shrug, Harry began to pack everything into his enchanted backpack. Snape always allowed them to use the ingredients from the school stores, and Harry hoped that the Potions Professor would continue with that habit this year.

Harry was about to start packing his textbooks when a couple of them fell from his grasp. He bent to retrieve them when his eyes fell on the open page of one of the books. Someone had written along the margin of the book - a potions book from his glimpse of the content - and had crossed out a few of the printed lines here and there.

Flipping through the pages, Harry could see similar markings on almost every page. He was about to take it back to the shelf and pick another book, but then he read the words in the margin next to the recipe for a Swelling Solution Potion.

Whereas the printed words stated that the puffer fish eyes should be added to the mortar containing dried nettles, ground then added to the cauldron; the margin writer states instead to ground both separately - each into a fine powder - and a level spoon of the powdered nettle, then puffer fish eyes, are added to the cauldron with three clockwise turns between each.

Harry's frenzied studies of Potions, in the beginning of his first year of the class, had left solid memories of some of the information he'd learned. Nettle was not an ingredient to be used or handled lightly... if the puffer fish eyes were added to the nettle simultaneously, the guanine crystals contained in the eyes would immediately begin to break down. This deterioration would, in turn, cause a slight but noticeably sluggish effect, including an off olive green colour of the potion.

The margin writer's solution, Harry guessed accurately, would cause an immediate effect once the potion is used, and - according to the writer - the potion would become a beautiful chartreuse green.

Taking a quick glance at some of the writings in the margins, Harry surmised - off of the bit he remembered from his studies - that the writer had been really good at potions, and had probably enjoyed the class. The inscription on the inside cover of the book further intrigued him.

"This book is the property of The Half-Blood Prince," Harry murmured, and he stood to continue his packing, "a half-blood... like me. I wonder if I could find the rest of your second-year texts in here too."

Harry yelped when all the texts, but the Potions book, shot away back to the shelves. His mouth slackened when replacements floated from the shelves and onto the table in a neat stack. Lifting the covers of the books, he took note of the Half-Blood Prince's signature on all of them. Harry's eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together tightly.

"I'd like a single roll of parchment, please," he said tersely, and facepalmed when a roll of parchment floated toward his table from the back of the room.

Harry glared fiercely at the immense trolley he'd been pulling and shoving around for about two hours, and he shook his head with a resigned sigh.

"Well, I _had_ asked for a trolley."

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

Harry rose early the next morning, gathered his school clothes and took them to the bathroom with him. He was usually the first one up, as he'd gotten used to waking at five-thirty every morning at the Dursley's.

They had Potions first thing this morning, and he found himself excited to use the Half-Blood Prince's guidelines. He had to get better at Potions... it was necessary now.

Stepping out of the shower stall, Harry twisted in front of the full-length mirror to check out the injuries on his back. They were gone.

'Much better than yesterday, young man. About time you went to the Mediwitch.'

Ignoring the chatty mirror, Harry brushed his hair and thought again about the Mirror Of Erised and his conclusions over the summer. His hand shook as confusion, fear and that damned hope filled his heart.

Harry didn't look like his father, he looks were a blend of both his parents; yet, everyone says he looks exactly like James, but this was untrue. Harry had studied repeatedly, the photo album Hagrid had given him, and there was no resemblance.

Lily was definitely his mother, he had her eyes and some of her features, but there was no way that James Potter had anything to do with his conception. The man he'd seen in the Mirror Of Erised though, Harry could see how he was definitely a blend of that man and Lily.

His father - and maybe even a kind and loving stepmother - was still out there somewhere.

Did Harry's father know about him? It was obvious that one of his parents or James had known he wasn't a Potter; there had to be some kind of magick over him if everyone thought he looked like James.

 _But... how come I can see my true self, but others can't? Whoever had cast the spell had probably done it wrong, or hadn't cared if I grew up knowing that I wasn't a Potter._

Whatever the answer, Harry was determined to find it, therefore, doing better in his subjects and scouring the library for more magickal knowledge were good starts.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

After a breakfast of some oatmeal and orange juice, Harry went down to Potions class. The door to the room was opened and when a quick glance around told him that Snape wasn't there yet, Harry entered and chose the first bench he came to - technically it was located at the back of the class - on the left side of the room facing the blackboard.

There were four rows of benches that each seated three people on either side of the room, and Harry knew that he would be on that bench alone which was what he wanted.

Harry set up his cauldron on the burner, took out a letter-sized pad of parchment and a self-inking quill he'd gotten from the fund. Taking out his Potions textbook, he settled down to read and take notes until the class began.

His classmates began to stroll in sometime later and Harry glanced at his wristwatch; he hadn't realised that he'd gotten to class so early, he had to have been reading for at least half an hour as the first page on his pad was full of notes.

As he'd thought, no one sat next to him, for which Harry was grateful. It was about time he started to take his schooling seriously, he had the Dursleys to get away from and a father to find.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

 **A/N: I just to take this opportunity to thank all my readers and especially those who reviewed:**

 **Nataly SkyPot**

 **Elliarynn**

 **Catz4444**

 **The Guest that LOOVE's this story ;)**

 **Pikachu 79**

 **Riddle-Snape**

 **Thank you all so much, your reviews made me feel even better about my writing. Thanks to all who favourited and followed. Happy Holidays, Everyone!**


	5. Deliberation

**Chapter Four**

 **A/N - There isn't really any dialogue in this chapter. Five and Six are not like this but still needs work. As the story goes along I will be adding warnings to the summary as I don't want spoilers in it. So keep an eye on the Author Notes just in case you aren't okay with certain characters being bashed. Although, if you've read any of my other stories you should have an idea of those characters I don't care for.**

 **~~~(*)~~(*)~~~**

 _ **Deliberation**_

A soft sigh brimming with woe.

…

Coffee... sipped and savoured.

…

The slide of a wooden drawer.

…

 _It was a ploy…_

…

Long, elegant fingers massaging a barely creased forehead, before threading through black silky hair.

…

A soft rustle, as those fingers locate the single item in the drawer; an old photo of a young woman.

…

 _It had to be... I'd made a vow._

…

A spike of the usual hurt as the occupant of the photo looks blankly at him from the side of her emerald green eyes before looking away.

…

 _Always looking away._

…

The boy was cared for, he'd been assured of it.

…

An elegant finger caresses the beautiful silhouette.

…

It leaves the photo.

…

 _Otherwise, I've failed._

…

Another rustle as the photo is returned to the drawer.

…

The drawer is slammed shut.

…

 _Dumbledore had sworn that the boy was safe._

…

Dark eyes stared blankly at the ingredient-filled jars around the office.

…

 _Dumbledore lies for 'The Greater Good'. I should know that better than anyone._

…

A heartfelt sigh.

…

"What do I do? How do I even begin to help a boy I despise?"

* * *

The Sunday after the students had returned, Severus took every opportunity to study Potter whenever the boy was within his sight.

The boy was so like his damned father, playing with his hair, brushing it back and brandishing his scar; so secure in his so-called fame.

Severus yearned to send a Balding Charm at the arrogant brat's head.

He had pondered the situation all night, and the only solution the Potions Master could come up with was that he would have to… slightly… change his approach to Potter.

The first thing he'd noticed, was Potter descending the stairs that led to the Hogwarts Fund - seeing as there really wasn't anything but abandoned classrooms on that floor - Severus wondered why the boy had been to that room, then decided that he would search out the forms kept by Madame Pince. Unless of course, Potter was looking for some case to solve or an adventure to embark upon.

Even if the boy had been to the Fund, it was still inadequate evidence of what he believed Potter's home situation to be.

Severus would just have to continue with his investigation.

* * *

So, Potter _had_ been in the Fund yesterday.

Madame Pince had been as forthcoming with him a usual - not that she had any other choice - when Severus has figured out the woman's true function as the Librarian, the younger woman had continuously been helpful to him ever since. Honestly, though, Irma had always been helpful, at one point he'd even believed she'd had a crush on him, until the day she'd scolded him like a child in the staff room for drinking coffee while reading one of her precious library books.

Currently, Severus was relaxing in the staff room during one of his free periods, sipping a cold drink while he thought of his latest clue in spying on Potter during class.

The boy had even found one of Severus' old textbooks and had been avidly taking notes, unaware that his professor had been looming invisibly nearby. The Potions Master wasn't sure how he felt about this; the only time he'd ever seen a Potter study that hard had been when the Marauders were preparing some humiliating prank for unwary students, that is, Slytherin students.

However, this most recent Potter had - for some yet unknown reason to Severus - forsaken all of his friends and from the looks of it, his entire house. The brooding man, briefly wondered how the boy would fare on their Quidditch team, but brushed it aside, he was sure he would hear all about it from Minerva.

From his standpoint, it seemed to Severus that Potter was just renouncing friends to focus on his studies. The Potions Master snorted, stretched his long legs to cross them at the ankles, bringing the icy glass to his lips; it was only the first day of the new term, there was more than enough time for the boy's true intentions to surface, and Severus had the patience to wait him out.

"Severus, may we speak privately for a moment?"

Pulling his gaze from the window and the Forbidden Forest beyond, Severus turned to find the Astronomy Professor standing near his chair, and stroking her left pointer finger weirdly like it was a tiny pet... he hadn't seen her do that in years.

Experiencing a familiar irritation, Severus returned his gaze to the trees past the window, "Aurora, can't it wait until classes are done for the day? I have a session with second-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in a few minutes and I would prefer my free time to be uninterrupted by trivialities before then."

"O-of course, then might I call on you in your office later this afternoon?"

"Fine."

Severus relaxed his grip on the glass when he heard the rustle of Aurora's robes as she hustled away. He felt a bit guilty at his treatment of her, they weren't teenagers anymore, and there'd been no reason for his nastiness. In fact, he and the Astronomy professor didn't communicate beyond staff meetings and most of the time, not even then.

Severus stood to return to his classroom and sighed, he would apologise to the Astronomy Professor when she came to his office later. For now, he had Potter to figure out and first-years to terrorize.

* * *

Severus sent a note to Aurora, postponing her visit. He had been granted an unexpected opportunity to give Potter detention and he'd taken it.

Longbottom was already at his desk grounding willow bark when Potter arrived promptly at six pm. Longbottom had actually asked him to help prepare some of the ingredients, and to encourage more such interactions the Potions Master had allowed him.

Severus directed Potter to the storeroom at the back, located through a side door on the right near the entrance of the classroom. He noticed Potter's eyes widen in surprise at Longbottom's presence in the class, and Severus wondered if his job concerning these two wouldn't be better achieved if the two worked out their differences. He would have to think more on this.

In the storeroom, at the base of a large concrete sink, were six medium cauldrons and three smaller sizes in the sink itself, all in different states of grubbiness.

"Scrub those clean, no magick," he said, then pointed to a cleared shelf on the other side of the room, "and turn them down over there to dry when you're finished."

Severus took a large box of filled jars and left the room without another word to the boy hunched over the sink. He returned to his classroom and topped up the ingredients cupboard for the next hour.

Later on, once the cupboard was fully stocked for another day and Longbottom had already departed for the evening, the Potions Master chose to cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and Quietening Charm on his footsteps before he returned to the storeroom.

When he spotted Potter scrubbing away by the sink, Severus froze for a moment, but then walked slowly over to Potter as he stared at the back of the boy's shirt. There was a long red line that spanned the width of his small shoulders.

It was blood.

Severus backed away and leaned against a cupboard near the door as he considered his options. That blood could be from anything.

 _' ... ...'_

Well, for the moment the Potions Master couldn't think of anything, innocent or accident, that could have left a mark like that on the boy. Quidditch Practices began from tomorrow, and he hadn't caught Potter breaking any rules yet.

Severus could confront the messy haired nuisance, but he knew from experience that a direct confrontation wasn't always the best idea. He would have to get Madames Frazier and Pomfrey involved; the school's Consiliator and the Mediwitch would be the better options of getting Potter to open up about any possible abuse.

Just then, the boy scratched at the possible injury and Severus cringed; Potter hadn't even reacted to something that should have hurt like hell. Completely forgetting about his Disillusionment Charm he gave the boy permission to leave and froze when he realised his mistake.

Potter had looked around and assumed his hated professor had entered the room and left just as quickly. Severus observed as the boy rinsed the last of the cauldrons, throw on his school robes and left the room.

After a few minutes, Severus removed the magick over himself and decided to make his way to the Hospital Wing. He wondered that he didn't change his profession the numerous amount of time he spent there.

Severus sighed as he locked the classroom door behind him, while there was nothing he could tell Frazier or Pomfrey, he could at least give them a head's up so that they could keep an eye on Potter.

* * *

Neville Longbottom was conflicted. He was currently trying to complete his History of Magick essay, but he couldn't concentrate on the notes before him, even in the silence of the library.

Today in Potions class, Professor Snape, while he'd been his normal abrasive and snarky self, hadn't been any extra terrible to him. Neville found that he'd actually been able to complete a potion without it exploding.

The potion had been as unusable as most of the other students', of course, but Neville had secretly been proud as he'd handed up a complete potion with everyone else. Then after class, Professor Snape had actually _not_ snapped at him when Neville had stuttered through a request to come in after classes to help prepare potions ingredients.

The dark-haired boy remembered when, almost two days after he'd helped Professor Snape with the Umbrella Flowers at the end of the last term, he'd 'accidentally' walked across the Potions Master's path and had been allowed to help with other ingredients. This time, though, Malfoy and Zabini hadn't made an appearance.

For whatever reason, Professor Snape was being 'nice' to him, and Neville was beginning to develop a tentative respect for the professor, even though the man still razed students if he thought them incompetent.

His other focus of internal conflict was Harry.

Neville recalled when he'd spotted the other boy on the Express. Harry hadn't seen him, of course, Neville had been the first to get on the train, and concern filled him again at the memory of Harry's sickly and haggard appearance.

On the train, Neville had shrugged off his concern because he knew that Harry's friends would probably figure out what was wrong and help him.

What Neville hadn't expected, was for Harry to have completely broken off any friendship he'd had with Ron and Hermione, with almost everyone actually, as Harry barely spoke to any of the other Gryffindors. The only person Neville had really seen Harry talking with for the past couple of days was Percy Weasley.

Harry had even sat alone in Potions and a couple other classes all week. Neville felt guilty for how he was treating the other boy, but Harry and Hermione's betrayal was still fresh in his mind.

Neville wanted to resume his friendship with Harry, and maybe even Hermione, but he didn't want to experience their disloyalty again; and honestly, for the moment, Neville was enjoying his budding courage. If he had friends again, what if they ruined it? No, he was doing just fine on his own, and from what he saw, so was Harry - maybe - and Hermione - definitely.

 _Perhaps the three of us are better off alone._

Just then, Neville noticed Madame Frazier entering the library, with Harry appearing close behind her. Harry disappeared behind some shelves, but Neville saw that even though the school's Consiliator spoke earnestly with Madame Pince, her eyes had lingered on Harry. Not long enough for anyone to remark on, but Neville had been speaking with the woman since last year's end-of-term, and he'd picked up on her hastily hidden spark of concern.

Neville looked down at his essay as relief flooded him, and he returned to adding bits of his notes to the essay.

Harry was going to be fine; there was no better help for him than the school's Consiliator. After all, she had been the one to help Neville see that he'd been giving others power over himself; even Snape was treating him better.

Maybe when he went to see Madame Frazier for his appointment he'd hint that he thought something was wrong with Harry. Yes, that was what he would do, because even though Neville wasn't ready for a true friendship with the other boy yet, he could still help Harry whenever he needed it.

 **~~~(*)~~~(*)~~~**

 **A/N - Consiliator is Latin for Counselor**


End file.
